The Billionaire Boss Came Home From His Mistress’s Bed and Found His Pregnant Wife’s Ring on His Pillow, but the Blood on Her Coat Exposed the Woman He Had Trusted With His Empire

Ethan dropped to his knees beside her on the damp concrete, his hands hovering frantically over her shoulders, terrified to apply pressure and equally terrified not to.

“Nora—oh God, Nora,” he choked out, the tears he had suppressed for years finally breaking through his control. “I’m sorry. I am so, so sorry. I didn't know—I swear to God I didn't know about the forgery.”

Nora winced, her hand pressing weakly against her abdomen. Her fingers were stained with dried blood. “The contraction... they started in the parking garage downtown. Vanessa... she was waiting for me by my car.”

Ethan’s blood turned to ice. “Vanessa was there?”

“She didn't want the land deed to be contested in court,” Nora whispered, closing her eyes as another spasm of pain clearly wracked her body. “She said if I signed a quit-claim deed right then and there, she would let me drive to the hospital. When I refused... when I told her I had already sent copies of the original land grant to my attorney... she shoved me against the car door.”

Ethan’s vision went completely red. The fury burning inside his chest was so intense it felt physical, like molten lead searing his veins.

“She did this to you,” Ethan whispered, his voice trembling with a terrifying, homicidal rage. “She touched you.”

“I managed to get away,” Nora continued, her breathing shallow and rapid. “I drove up here because this was the only place I knew where her corporate lackones couldn't reach me easily. But my water broke on the drive. I’ve been down here for six hours, Ethan. The phone service won't reach through the stone foundation.”

She opened her eyes, looking up at him with a mix of exhaustion and profound, heartbreaking sorrow.

“Our baby is coming, Ethan,” she whispered. “Right now.”

Ethan didn't hesitate. He stripped off his expensive black wool coat, folding it carefully to place beneath her head, and pulled his cell phone from his pocket.

Zero bars. The stone foundation of the root cellar acted like a Faraday cage, completely blocking cellular signals.

“Listen to me,” Ethan said, taking her trembling hand in both of his, pouring every ounce of strength and determination he possessed into his voice. “We are going to get out of here. I am going to carry you up these stairs, put you in the car, and drive you straight to Albany Memorial Hospital. You and our baby are going to live. Do you hear me? Both of you.”

Nora gave a weak, tired nod. “My bag... by the stairs... I packed the baby clothes...”

Ethan scooped her up into his arms. Despite her advanced pregnancy, she felt terrifyingly light—too light, too fragile. He carried her up the cellar stairs with a desperate urgency, kicking the kitchen door open and bursting out into the cool New York air.

As he reached the front porch and headed toward the Aston Martin parked in the gravel drive, the sound of crunching tires echoed from the end of the lane.

Ethan froze.

A heavy black SUV came barreling down the overgrown orchard road, spraying gravel in all directions before sliding to a violent halt blocking the exit.

The driver’s side door opened.